Running
by heavyasanchors
Summary: "Finn is talking. But who cares what he is saying when Quinn is dying?" Faberry. First fanfic ever.


You're running.

Fear is pulsing through your veins, surely building a blockage to your heart. You're in a hurry. Finn is talking, but who cares what he is saying when Quinn is dying?

Mr. Schue isn't any help either. You turn to Santana, who is crying silently, and she nods at you, and grabs your wrist, and you move quicker. You're grateful. You need to get there. You need to see her.

You get to the hospital and you yell at the nurses who tell you that you have to sit, you have to be patient. Quinn is in surgery. Something about her spine.

You sit and you cry. Finn places a hand on your back, but leaves before Quinn is out of surgery. You don't look up. You ignore his goodbyes. You turn to Santana again and this time, you drop your engagement ring in her hand. Her brow furrows, but she locks it away in Brittany's purse.

Quinn's mother shows up, frantic and shaky. She speaks calmly with a nurse, and covers her eyes with her hand. She smiles politely at Mr. Schuester and sits next to him. She tells him quietly that Quinn's condition isn't good, but that she's alive.

You breathe.

Several hours later, you go see Quinn. She's hooked up to machines. She's covered in bruises and stitches and white casting. There's a bag of blood hanging by her bed, dripping into her system. She's unconscious. You just watch her for a minute then you leave. Your guilt leaves stains the hospital walls.

A few days later, Quinn is awake and you rush to the hospital when Santana texts you. You ignore the people telling you to slow down, to stop running through the halls.

"Quinn!" You shout and you burst into her room.

She's sitting up in her bed, and her mom is feeding her some type of soup.

She smiles at you. "Hi, Rach."

Her mother glances at you then at Quinn and excuses herself.

You move slowly, take her hand on her bed. You don't say anything. You just stare at her. Her eyelids are drooping, but she's looking at you too.

She's holding your left hand, and you feel her thumb softly graze your ring finger, and when she finds it completely bare, she chuckles that soft, throaty laugh that only Quinn does.

"My work here is finished," she whispers, smiling, before she falls asleep.

You go see her every day she's in the hospital. They told her about her spine, and she cried for a while. Her mother called you, saying she'd been asking for you. You run to the hospital, and as soon as you enter her room, she holds out her arms, and you climb into her bed and hold her, her head tucked under you chin, sobbing into your chest.

Everyone else comes to see her, but she doesn't let go of you. She speaks to them quietly, not moving her head from its place on your chest. Puck kisses her forehead and then yours, but winks at you before he leaves. You hear her chuckle, and that's when you realize she is more than your friend- at least, you want her to be.

You bring her flowers and candy and stuffed animals and books. She always smiles when you come in the door, and it always stops your heart. Even in this condition, after nearly dying, she is still so stunningly beautiful. You tell her so, but you can tell she is having a hard time believing it. She knows about the scars.

The day they bring her the wheelchair, Quinn just stares at it. She doesn't cry or shout like you had expected. She just… looks at it. It's her way of accepting the new challenge that has been thrown at her, and you promise her that you'll help her. She smiles.

They finally let her go home, and you still visit her every day. She still smiles at you. Lately, she's been asking you to read to her. You don't know why. You had been under the impression that your voice was annoying. But what Quinn wants, she gets. And if she wants you to read to her, then by God you will read to her.

Today, you're reading Emily Dickinson poetry, and she's grinning silently to herself, and sometimes when you look up, you can see her mouthing the words along with you.

"Rach?" she asks when you've finished.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

You smile. "You're very welcome, Quinn."

"You don't have to do all of this. I know you're busy with school and Finn and-."

You stop her, lowering your eyes. "I'm not with Finn anymore."

"You… What?" She pauses, and you know she's staring at you. "Are you serious? And you didn't tell me? I mean, I know you guys didn't get married, but I didn't know you broke up."

"I broke up with him a couple days after…" You almost say the accident. "After the wedding. I just… Quinn, I don't love him the way that I…" You almost say the way I love you. "The way that I used to. I'm going to New York, and he's… not."

Quinn stares at you for a long moment, reading your expression. "Rachel, why didn't you tell me?"

"There were bigger things to worry about at the time, Quinn."

"Rachel, that's no excuse."

"You almost died!" You shout at her, feeling your eyes fill with tears. Your voice quivers. "Because of me and some stupid truck, I almost lost you, and I couldn't care any less about Finn Hudson and his subpar reasons for wanting to marry me because you're alive, and I'm not going to waste another second worrying about some stupid boy when I can just be with you."

Her mouth falls open. "You… want to be with me?"

"I'm here every day, aren't I?"

She laughs a little, and it's one of your favorite sounds in the world. She sits up a little in her bed and motions for you to join her. You lie down next to her, and she wraps you in her arms.

"Please don't keep things from me anymore," Quinn whispers.

You hesitate, but say, "In that case, I love you."

She takes a deep breath, and you feel her press his face into the top of your head. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you?"

They're the best words you've ever heard, and you start to cry.

There are lots of things in your life that you consider yourself blessed to have: your dads and school and your voice and Kurt and NYADA and your car and glee club and meeting Patti Lupone. But you know that having Quinn hold you and whisper sweet things to you after reading her poetry is something you'll never be more thankful for.

So, you sit up and kiss her and thank her for living.


End file.
